


So Cold, Oh So Cold

by mourn3d



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Anger, Best Friends Turned Lovers, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Character Death, F/M, Flashbacks, Franklin kills Michael, Graphic Description of Corpses, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lost Love, M/M, Making Out, May or may not be second chapter, Sad Ending, Talking To Dead People, Trevor is really really in a bad place, Trevor wants to kill him, not confirmed - Freeform, option b, pure hatred, second chapter in the making, this kind of hurt to write I won't lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mourn3d/pseuds/mourn3d
Summary: Now Trevor pulled up next to a water tower where he had tracked Franklin’s phone number. He had called Franklin earlier in a fit of rage whenever he wasn’t able to get Michael on the phone. He turned off the Bodhi and blinked a few times, before he slid out of the truck and hit the pavement with a soft thud. He approached a large...something that was on the ground. He was horrified to say the least, but he had no idea what this thing was on the ground in front of him. He stepped over carefully, a motion light turning on from the sudden movement and Trevor heart stopped.Michael Townley. Dead. Before his very fucking eyes.// What did Trevor do when he found out that Franklin murdered Michael? Not canon.
Relationships: Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Wanted You, Needed You?

**Author's Note:**

> There is blood. A lot of blood and it was kind of hard to write but this is probably the fanfic I'm most proud of in this moment. Trevor is so hurt. I thank my friend (xoxo you know who you are) for lowkey getting me back into writing with their amazing art. Hope you enjoy!

It was always so cold in North Yankton. So...very cold. Whether that be the weather or the actual citizens of that small town. They were diamonds in the rough- or...they thought they were anyways. Trevor found himself lost in the feeling of being wanted by people that actually cared for him. That actually wanted him to be around them. He became lost and _blind_ to what his dear mother told him that strangers would do to a boy like him. _You’re innocent, you’re pure, my son. Boys like them...they will just ruin you. And I mean ruin you, Trevor._

Trevor knew for certain that he _wasn’t_ a pure boy, like his mother said. If anything he was the complete opposite but he would never argue with her, no, not in a million years. 

So he let those boys ruin him. Let himself slip and fall in love with a blue-eyed bastard by the name of Michael Townley. Just the mention of his name by anybody in the group sent the Canadian into a fuzzy bliss just thinking about how their future could be like if the two confessed their feelings for one another. What could have been between them…

Now Trevor pulled up next to a water tower where he had tracked Franklin’s phone number. He had called Franklin earlier in a fit of rage whenever he wasn’t able to get Michael on the phone. He turned off the Bodhi and blinked a few times, before he slid out of the truck and hit the pavement with a soft thud. He approached a large... _something_ that was on the ground. He was horrified to say the least, but he had no idea what this _thing_ was on the ground in front of him. He stepped over carefully, a motion light turning on from the sudden movement and Trevor heart stopped. 

Michael Townley. Dead. Before his very fucking eyes. 

Trevor didn’t know what to do at this moment. He didn’t know whether or not to scream and shout at the corpse or sob and beg for him to come back. Though he soon realized both would bring him nowhere. He noticed the pool of thick red blood that pooled around the corpse. He’d been dead for a while now. His hands had begun to shake as he stared at his old running mate. Before he dropped down silently and closed those lifeless eyes that stared off into the distance. He wiped Michael’s blood nose then stood up, aware that because he stepped over into the pool of blood he now had shades of scarlet smeared against his boots and his hands. 

He didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care because now he had to stare at the man he said to be his one and truly best friend. He wondered if he suffered in his last moments, or he hoped it was a fatal crack, assuming that he fell from the top of the water tower. He hoped the fucker didn’t suffer, no matter how much Michael had hurt him in their life he didn’t think anyone deserved to suffer when they died, besides himself, of course. 

“I’m always cleaning up after you. You fuck.” Trevor spat at his friend, dropping down beside his body, he didn’t _care_ about the blood. He sat down and took his hand. He didn’t care that he shouldn’t be messing with his best friend’s corpse. He really didn’t care. He needed this because he wasn’t prepared to actually go to a funeral in which he knew he was dead this time. He shook quietly as he held the cold hand, just staring at that face. The face that seemed to just deflate after his death. No, his _murder_. He made a mental note to find that two-faced fucker that he knew was the cause for Michael to be laying dead on the ground, he instead decided to sit and stay with Michael. Maybe the police would be called on them by someone passing by, or maybe later on Trevor would run off and get higher than a kite and go on a rampage killing everything that breathed in his sight. But no. For now he would stay with Michael. His friend. 

“You were my best friend!” he choked out after a moment, not used to this kind of emotion filling him. “We were gonna be something, Mikey. Something more than the shit we were doing before you went and got your fat ass offed.” Trevor scowled and spit off to the side away from Michael. “We were gonna be what we prayed to be in the 80s, Michael. _Those_ guys. The ones you denied us being since we were kids.” He was still shaking, trying to figure out his racing thoughts. 

_“Trevor-... no. Fuck off.” Michael laughed playfully as Trevor laid in bed with him in a mind-twisting high. The two shared a blunt after one of their biggest scores yet and one of the longest drives that they ever went. They needed to stay low and just wait it out. So they moved practically across the state to be extra careful. Trevor was excited because the weed was the strongest he had ever had, and he knew that Michael had a very low tolerance for pot. He knew it would be an exciting night._

_“What Mikey? The Philips hug is too good for you now?” Trevor taunted playfully, before turning and burying his face against Michael’s shoulder, a part of him realizing that Michael could just shove him off of the bed and scream at him to get out if he truly didn’t want to be cuddled by Trevor. Though the rest of that night was a blur. He knew they talked...and talked. Talked about how much money they would have once they retired from this job. Talked about the good times when they were still in school together and then they talked about girls. The tsunami of strippers they saw when they were out at times like this._

_Then Trevor kissed him. Trevor kissed him desperately. He kissed him like he was about to die right then and there and the only person that would remember him was Michael, which was true mostly in that time. Michael had kissed back and one thing came to another and Michael found himself pressed to the sheets with his hips up and his face facing away from Trevor. Both grunting and crying like there wasn’t a taken hotel room right next to them. They did it like they were kids again, but they were in their 30s and just trying to soak up the boredom and taking advantage of being able to do these kinds of things without getting any feelings involved. Trevor had taken Michael’s second virginity that night. His wife and daughter were unknowingly 50 miles away in a trailer in North Yankton. Michael lived with that guilt for the rest of his life._

Trevor remembered those moments that weren’t blurry. He remembered them easily. The thoughts of Michael clawing at the pillows and headrest while whimpering as Trevor was grunting every thrust. He thought about how Michael looked when he came and how he rocked into Trevor to beckon him to do the exact same. The way he didn’t care how dirty he was after Trevor finished - perhaps that was the high - and just cuddled the younger man almost like a child. Trevor didn’t mind the warmth and the cuddling from the other man, he even just hugged him close and smiled a little when he heard Michael’s breathing slow into a careful rhythm before he drifted off into sleep at his side. 

It hurt, hit Trevor like a raging bull thinking about his past with Michael, but what could’ve been with them hurt him even worse, like a hurricane, if you will. _They could have been in love._ He could have grown to be together and fight through the glares from others who disliked the gays. They could have been partners for years and could have worked together until they were happy with the amount of money that had or just physically couldn’t work themselves like that again. 

“We could have been so happy.” he whispered and swiped some of Michael’s hair off of his forehead. He always had soft hair. Soft as silk, always made Trevor jealous whenever he still had enough to keep into a mullet. “Could’ve got...man..I don’t know, married.” he said softly. Staring at the pale face. _He was sleeping, Trevor. Sleeping….is all._ “I know you weren’t all soft whenever it was just us...but we coulda’ been something, Townley. Then you went and got pushed off of a water tower. _A water tower._ You fuck.” he chuckled sadly and combed back his dark brown hair. He breathed out and finally realized there had been tears falling down his face, he wiped them, smearing blood against his cheek before he teared up so much he couldn’t see. His vision going fuzzy. He pulled Michael’s head close to his chest and sobbed out into the night. 

He was going to fucking kill Franklin. Hell, maybe off himself. There was no point living if he knew his life would be filled with nothing but brain cell killing drugs and suffering. The only pleasure he could get out of his life would be murdering the stupid soul that murdered his best friend. He knew he would have to get back at him. He was _sure_ he would be prepared to murder the poor soul that dared mess with his paradise in the making. He would make Franklin hurt. He sobbed out harder, but hardly registered what he was doing or why he was doing it in the first place because he didn’t care. His best friend….part time lover was dead. It didn’t have to turn out this way. They all could’ve went on with their lives, hell, they could’ve killed Franklin the second they thought something was up because that’s how it was supposed to go in the first place. 

But Trevor became soft before any of this happened. He decided to trust Michael’s judgement. After they sat in the lab. When he got that rush of hearing Michael shout at the top of his lungs at the others in the room. 

_“Sarcasm! And a room full of you cunts!” Michael declared loudly, throwing his hands up into the air and making Trevor grin ear to ear, pulling himself up off of the wall that he’d been leaning against while they were in this meeting._

_“Yes!” he shouted back. “That’s it! The Michael fuckin’ Townley I remember! Welcome back baby!” he fist pumped and ignored the glare from Michael and the scoff he let out, he was ready to continue their job together, to be best friends and partners again. To be able to trust each other with any secrets they had and maybe even let each other in more personally than they did when they first met again. Trevor had decided to kiss Michael later that day when he mumbled ‘i better get going’ to the group when he headed out. He was pressed into a wall by Michael, he felt those hands that he had missed for a decade find their place on his hips. Michael Townley was back, it wasn’t that cheap knockoff version. The old man that wanted to waste away his day, no. It was the exhilarating, badass Michael Townley that Trevor had fallen in love with. He wanted to show his appreciation by the appearance of his long lost friend, and it seemed that it was greatly accepted._

_“I missed you Townley.” he muttered against the older man’s lips when they relaxed into the kiss, Trevor laying his hands against Michael’s back. He moved and let his lips drift down to his neck, where he knew that Michael would just melt for him, and he did exactly that, with a soft and low hum of gratitude as well. Trevor smirked and suckled on his neck a little bit, he watched him unravel and fall apart just as he pleased. Just how he needed him to._

Then they went days without speaking to one another. Trevor didn’t care, he actually thought it was fine. If Michael didn’t want to talk he wouldn’t talk, plain as that. It seemed nowadays Michael was the decision maker anyways. Trevor didn’t care, he went off and got high and ran off back to Sandy Shores instead of going to Floyd's apartment and having to listen to him bitch about not seeing his girlfriend. Trevor didn’t care. He wanted Michael but Michael wasn’t wanting him in that moment so he left him alone

That's how they ended up by the time Michael had been killed. He had gone weeks without speaking to him because of an argument they had. A stupid argument had wasted the last moments the pair could have been able to have together. If it wasn’t for the pairs shared bad tempers they might have just joined each other for a good night's rest. He knew that Townley never slept good. He would lay restless most nights that they went on runs, though Michael did tell him that he got his good sleep when he was in Trevor’s arms the nights they got to sleep together. When he was away from that dirty whore he called his wife. 

Now he was gone. It would be hard to explain to Amanda and the kids for sure, but Trevor wasn’t planning on sticking around too long to have to see that go down. 

He suddenly got a text from Franklin, he scowled and picked up his phone, smearing blood against the screen as he swiped to unlock it, squinting in the dark to read the text. He didn’t really care at this point. He didn’t want to hear what the kid had to say he was going to kill him no matter what he was going to try to tell Trevor. Poor him. 

“Fff _fuck_ him.” he seethed to Michael’s corpse. “Fuck him. I knew you always messed around with idiots, this time you really learned though, right Mikey?” he chuckled dryly, shaking his head and ruffling his hair, before fixing it again. “You always fuckin’ hated when I would do that, eh?” he nudging his friend before shaking his head. He scowled. “You shouldn’t be fucking dead Mikey. But don’t you worry old pal….ohhh… don’t you worry. You’re gonna get what you deserve. Your legacy, that shits gonna be protected. You’re not gonna be forgotten old pal. At least not by me.” 

He didn’t want to leave the corpse's side but he knew deep down that that wasn’t Michael anymore. It was a dead, soulless body. He scowled and slowly got up, taking his phone. He wouldn’t need it anymore. He had no reason to contact anybody. “I’ll see ya on the other side, buddy.” he muttered to the corpse. He dialed 911 and tossed the phone into the pool of blood as it began to hum the dial tone. He moved away and headed back to the truck. He hopped in and started it, yanking open the glove box and pulling out a silver pistol that he had stored away under some junk. 

“Here I fucking come, Clinton.”


	2. Is It Terrifying?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor commits. There are voices inside his head the entire time. Please read notes before reading. Kind of thought up from The View From Halfway down from Bojack Horseman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. This is very gory and very descriptive about it. There is hallucinations and mentions of murder and suicide in this. Trevor commits suicide on account of the death of Michael. Please be aware of this.
> 
> \- Suicide Prevention Hotline -
> 
> US - 1-800-273-825
> 
> Canada - 1-833-456-456
> 
> UK - 116 123

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

_A beat._

“It’s quiet here.” A voice comments, the man didn’t lift his head, waiting for the steady sound of scarlet blood to hit the metal ring of the drain in his sink to continue. “Oh, but you don’t care, do you? You’re just looking for a way out.” The voice continues, this time making the man's head snap up, his eyes narrowing on the shower that was to his left, barely in view through the mirror, but there. 

His vision was too blurry, but if there was anything there he had his eyes on it. He didn’t speak, hearing another drip hit the bottom of the sink and sighed, thankful he didn’t have to stumble back to the bedroom to grab the blade again. 

“A way out.” the voice cackled. “You always were a pussy, right _Trisha?_ ” He could _hear_ the smirk in the voice. He wanted to whip around and punch the person right in the mouth, but he couldn’t. He was just too weak to do much but take the verbal punches from whoever the hell decided to break into his house, or whoever was in his head. 

“Trisha, oh dear Trisha.” the voice mocked, making the weak man swear he felt breath on the back of his neck, he swung around before crashing down onto his knees with a cry of pain. He was careful to not alert anybody that was around the small trailer park though. They didn’t need to see this pitiful sight. 

“Shut the fuck up!” he bellowed to the empty house. “Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!” He let it all out and began to sob out, aware of the stinging pain he hadn’t felt earlier rise in his arm. He cringed and cried out harder. “Where the fuck are you?”  
  


“T?” A soft voice whispered, making him crane his head down. He clenched his teeth and eyes tightly shut. “Trevor, what have you done to yourself...look at me..” the gentle voice murmured. 

“No. You’re not….you’re _fucking_ with me. You’re not real...you’re dead!” he began to laugh wickedly, coldly. “You’re fuckin’ dead.” 

“I’m not dead Trevor.” the voice sighed, a hand rubbed through the man’s short grimey hair, petting him slowly. “I’m right here. I’m right in front of you. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Ohh...you always say stupid... _fuckin’..._ ** _fluffy_** shit like that, don’t you Mikey!” Trevor laughed, then hugged himself, the blood had begun to pour out of his wound, he was picking at it whenever the voice started to pet him. 

“Did you kill him?” a completely different voice asked, and the man went silent, bowing his head again and hiccuping as he began to cry. “Did you kill him, Trevor? That kid...oh that poor boy...what did he do? Oh...Trevor...what did he do? I never raised you to be this way!” the voice screamed to him. Making Trevor scream back at how painful it was. 

“I killed him, ma!” he cried out, then suddenly was filled with all of the voices all at once. He covered his ears to silence them all out. He sobbed out and began to kick at nothing, then slammed his fist into the wall directly in front of him. “Shut up.. _Shut the fuck up!”_

He stood, then fell back over, dragging himself to the foot of his bed and grabbing the duffel bag, he did this with his left hand because he knew he wouldn’t be able to drag that kind of weight close to himself. 

The sound of a gun cocking made the voice hault, and he let out an excited sigh, dropping the pistol onto the ground and covering his face. 

The gentle voice came back, Trevor already knew of the presence before it spoke, he whimpered and curled into the bed. 

“You really did it.” he whispered. 

Around the trailer were bloody boot prints. A bloody knife lay in the kitchen sink, Trevor’s front was stained in that same color. 

“He killed you.” the man whimpered out. “He killed you, what was I going to do, let him live with that?” 

“You want to let yourself live with it.” the voice murmured back, and the man laughed sadly. Breathing out and looking back at his arm. He saw what he had done now. 

A deep cut stretched all the way down from the crease of his arm to his wrist. Three brutal times. He had done this to himself…

The blood gathered from each end to his wrist and pooled down into his cupped palm. It was oddly beautiful. A love worth dying for. 

“Is it terrifying?” He asked weakly, looking for the owner of the voice, blinking and feeling himself begin to lose consciousness. “Mikey-..Mikey?”

_“No, Trevor. I don’t think so. It’s the way life goes. The drip….finally stops.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Suicide Prevention Hotline -
> 
> US - 1-800-273-825
> 
> Canada - 1-833-456-456
> 
> UK - 116 123
> 
> There is always someone out there who needs you and loves you. Stay safe.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rough ride. I might be adding a chapter to add Franklin's death and Trevor's death maybe. Depends on how and where I will be mentally after I post this. I'm doing alright, I'm completely fine! It was just a lot to write in Trevor's head. Thanks for all of your support guys, it means a lot!
> 
> Tumblr (contact me for ANYTHING) - @mourn3d


End file.
